


It's How You Learn

by Is0lde



Series: It's How You Learn [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Banter, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Character Study, Come as Lube, Dirty Talk, First Time, Intercrural Sex, Introspection, Kink Discovery, Laughter During Sex, M/M, No Beta We Die Like Democracy With Thunderous Applause, Obi-Wan Has a Big Dick, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Power Bottom, Praise Kink, Prostate Massage, Size Kink, Sparring, Teasing, That's Not How The Force Works, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27231409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Is0lde/pseuds/Is0lde
Summary: “If you think I won’t be a challenge then you’ve already lost, Obi-Wan.”Obi-Wan crouched down and pulled the training sabres from his bag, their handles well worn from years of practice.“Darling,” he drawled, low and soft. “I’d never underestimate you.”(Or; Anakin and Obi-Wan spar in Jar'Kai and it ends up exactly how they both planned)
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: It's How You Learn [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015881
Comments: 53
Kudos: 407





	It's How You Learn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gwendolyn (storiesofchaos)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesofchaos/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by the prompt "the inherent eroticism of sparring" from [Gwendolyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesofchaos/pseuds/Gwendolyn) in the Obikin Discord Server . I couldn't resist and I know I've teased you for a month about this fic but it is finally finished! This story is a love letter to the joys of teaching martial arts to a younger generation and also a love letter to Obi-Wan and Anakin. I'd like to think I know quite a bit about sparring with swords, seeing as before the pandemic hit this is what I did three nights a week! I took some of my experience and applied it here.
> 
> The title is taken from Saint Saviour's "Fight".

_“When the sword is once drawn, the passions of men observe no bounds of moderation.”_

\- Alexander Hamilton

* * *

“Again!” 

Obi-Wan let the sound of sabres colliding wash over him as the door swished shut. Before him, Anakin glided backwards in a series of intricate parries across the _Resolute_ ’s private training salle as Ahsoka advanced, a look of intense concentration on her face. Four blades whirled between them, Anakin’s blue easily glancing away each of Ahsoka’s green-tinted blows. To the untrained eye, they appeared to be sparring but Obi-Wan knew their motions to be a set of paired katas, the combination of moves centuries-old.

“Good, you’re starting to get the hang of it now,” Anakin complimented once they finished the set, his sabres crossed to hold back Ahsoka’s. With a shove he disengaged their blades and fell into the opening attacking stance, one blade held in a guard to his side, pointing forwards and the other blocking his front. “Again!” 

This time it was Ahsoka on the retreat before her Master’s onslaught, a mirror of their earlier waltz. But here the cracks were much more obvious in Ahsoka’s form. Where Anakin had flowed into each block and parry with confidence his Padawan’s motions were rushed and barely coordinated. They didn’t even make it through the entire kata before a strong hit from Anakin’s left sabre sent Ahsoka’s shoto flying from her hand directly towards Obi-Wan, who carefully sidestepped the projectile to let it harmlessly bounce off the door. He bent down to pick up the training sabre and turned a quirked an eyebrow towards the duo. Ahsoka’s free hand was covering her mouth and he could see panic beginning to form in her bright eyes. 

“Master Kenobi, I’m so sorry,” she yelped. 

Chuckling, Obi-Wan approached both of them and extended the sabre to Ahsoka. “I’m not so old that my reflexes have failed me yet, Ahsoka. The Jar’Kai katas are difficult to master, and you are not the first Padawan to send a sabre flying when learning them.” 

Ahsoka accepted the sabre in her hand and ducked her head slightly, the deep blue stripes on her lekku shifting to indigo in embarrassment. She was so very much like Anakin at times, subtly picking up on and replicating a few of his unconscious mannerisms.

“If I recall correctly,” he continued conspiratorially, feeling a small smirk grow across his lips, “Anakin once threw his sabre at Master Windu during his basic sabre technique evaluation.” 

“I didn’t throw it,” Anakin huffed in indignation, folding his arms defensively. “I was overeager and it slipped out of my hand!” 

“You sent it straight for his head.” 

Ahsoka giggled, rounding on her Master. “Seriously, Skyguy? Right at Master Windu?” 

“I was _ten_ ,” Anakin insisted, indignant, but his eyes met Obi-Wan’s over his Padawan’s montrals. He knew exactly what Obi-Wan was doing and across their bond he sent a wave of warm gratitude. Feeling perhaps a bit cheeky, Obi-Wan winked at him and chuckled when Anakin flicked him in the Force. 

“Okay, Snips,” Anakin said. “Let’s get back to it. I’m not letting you out of here until you’re more confident in the retreat. Master Obi-Wan, are you willing to be a second set of eyes?” 

“Of course,” He replied, dropping the bag he brought along with him and working on removing his plastoid vambraces and heavier outer layers. The two younger Jedi moved back to the centre of the salle and resumed the back and forth dance of the kata, but at a slower speed than before. The purpose of the exercise was to not only build the strength required of the arms for Jar’Kai but to also build muscle memory and spatial awareness. The coordination required for the method was taxing for bibrachial species, not simply on the body but also the mind. A Jar’Kai practitioner needed to be comfortable and confident in their motions, requiring the arms to often contradict one another. It was important that they move in harmony regardless, and not get in one another’s way. The paired kata was the next step in the process, allowing an apprentice to practice the moves against another sabre. 

While all Jedi were to some degree trained in dual-wielding it was rare for a master to decide to make it a Padawan’s primary technique. When Anakin had explained his plan to use Jar’Kai to shore up Ahsoka’s concerning reliance on the reverse grip Obi-Wan had been somewhat skeptical. It was not that he doubted Ahsoka’s ability to flourish under Jar’Kai—or Anakin’s ability to teach it—but he had thought that focusing on correcting her dependence would get her further. Anakin had been insistent, however, and Obi-Wan could admit there was perhaps no one better in the order to train her in the method. 

Despite what the disastrous duel with Dooku might have an outsider and Anakin himself believe, Obi-Wan’s former Padawan had always excelled in dual-wielding lightsabres. There had been a time when Obi-Wan himself considered what Anakin was following through with Ahsoka now. Their lineage had always prided itself on mastery of all of the core sabre forms, barring Juyo and Vaapad, and Anakin’s prodigious combat skill voraciously took to Jar’Kai like a Purrgil to Hyperspace. Yet, in the end, being preternaturally good at something did not make it one’s favoured method. Anakin preferred the overwhelming strength two-handing a lightsaber lent to his treasured Djem So and thus could never marry himself to a method like Jar’Kai. 

Watching him move, Obi-Wan cast a stray thought to just how deadly Anakin could have been had he perfected Djem So with Jar’Kai. He would have been poetry in motion, an inescapable storm of blue light laying waste to his enemies. 

Sinking into a long stretch close to the floor, one leg bent and the other extended out, Obi-Wan observed as Anakin and Ahsoka worked their way through the katas. Keeping his end of the bargain he analyzed Ahsoka’s technique carefully. She still struggled with a proper grip in her dominant hand but he was confident now that with time she would grow stronger in it. In the past year or so she had blossomed under Anakin’s tutelage, and it warmed Obi-Wan deep down in his soul to see two of the most unorthodox Jedi in the Order find a kindred spirit in one another.

Yet for all that he was supposed to be watching Ahsoka, Obi-Wan often found his eyes traitorously drifting towards Anakin. 

Master and apprentice had both shed their Jedi robes and tabards, opting for something lighter. Obi-Wan was not sure where Anakin had found a sleeveless tunic but the low scoop of the neckline left the graceful length of his neck and delicate clavicles bare for all to see. The last campaign had placed the 501st on the starward side of a tidally locked planet and Anakin’s desert honed skin had soaked up the sunlight, deepening the bronze undertones and it almost glowed beneath the soft sheen of perspiration. The harsh sun had spun gold into the highlights of Anakin’s hair, flashes of a lighter colour amongst the space-darkened curls that whispered of his youth.

Forcibly dragging his eyes away from Anakin before he became anymore distracted Obi-Wan continued through his stretches, determinedly keeping his focus on the padawan who needed the feedback. 

“Don’t overthink it Ahsoka,” Anakin said, kind but firm as he danced backwards, hardly out of breath. “Just let the pattern guide you and trust that I will match your rhythm. Ready? Again!” He gave no quarter once his retreat was finished, immediately dashing forward, blue blades whirling. 

Back and forth, back and forth they went and Obi-Wan saw Ahsoka’s confidence grow the more she realized she did not need to scramble to match Anakin. He did not doubt that when Ahsoka mastered the kata she and Anakin would be able to perform it as a shared meditation, moving together like a moon and an ocean, forming the rhythm of a tide. 

Eventually, they wound down. For all her youthful exuberance, the kata was far more demanding on a learner than a master and Obi-Wan could see Anakin compensating for Ahsoka’s heavier and minutely sluggish movements. When the final set ended Anakin extinguished both of his training sabres, transferring them to his left hand and firmly clapping his Padawan on the shoulder. 

“Well done, Ahsoka,” Anakin complimented and the young Togruta sagged with something akin to relief under his touch. 

“Thank you, Master,” she replied, stepping away and giving him a bow which Anakin returned, the dip in his spine equally as deep as hers. 

“Any thoughts, Obi-Wan,” Anakin asked, wiping a bit of perspiration from his brow. Obi-Wan tore his gaze away from the shadowed hollow of Anakin’s axilla and focused on the tired, but earnestly waiting, Ahsoka. 

“Several,” he replied, stroking his beard. “But for now I think you need to remember that even in retreat you should pair the motion of your feet and arms. You do not struggle with this when you advance but the desynchronization of your movements is causing you to overbalance. This makes you feel more out of control, correct?” 

“Yeah,” Ahsoka said thoughtfully. “I think I was getting the hang of it more towards the end, though.” 

“You were getting tired, which slows down your movements when there’s no adrenaline, so you weren’t as tense,” Anakin explained. “You need to try and do that when you’re not dead on your feet, Snips.” 

“Easy enough for you to say, Skyguy,” Ahsoka jabbed her elbow into her Master’s ribs before changing the subject, a sharp-toothed grin on her face. “You two going to spar? Master Kenobi never stretches out unless he intends to kick your ass into next week. Can I stay and watch?” 

Anakin briefly flicked his eyes over to Obi-Wan and there was a dark and charged promise in them, a small hint of that thing they had been dancing around for months, before he lightly shoved Ahsoka in the direction of the door. 

“Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable of the word. “You have to finish editing your comparative political ideologies essay and submit that before the end of the ship’s cycle or Master Kava is not going to be kind in her grading. I already got you one extension on that assignment.” 

“Ugh,” Ahsoka exhaled with utter contempt, sagging exaggeratedly. “That’s the _last_ thing I want to do. Can you at least give it a read through before I submit it?” 

“Unh, sure,” Anakin replied, running a hand through his messy curls, suddenly bashful. “I’m not very good with politics though, you know that.” 

“I value your opinion regardless,” Ahsoka said, bending down to collect her bag, storing the training sabres inside. Obi-Wan caught the barest hint of a surprised flush on Anakin’s cheeks. Even now Anakin was often blindsided by compliments from those he cared for. “After all, if it makes sense to you then it’s at least coherent, right?” 

Obi-Wan’s chuckle was drowned out by Anakin’s sarcastic remark. “Ha ha ha, _very_ funny. Get out of here, Snips.” 

Ahsoka whipped out a mocking salute as she sauntered out, the door slipping shut with a quiet snip, leaving Obi-Wan and Anakin in the now silent salle. Without her to act as a buffer the tension suddenly rushed to fill the void like a deluge. 

“You all limbered up, old man?” Anakin asked, walking over to the canteen he had set near the wall, taking a long pull of water from it. The way his laryngeal prominence bobbed as he swallowed was entirely too distracting. 

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow at Anakin as he rolled up the sleeves of his undertunic and caught Anakin’s eyes slipping down to watch as he exposed his forearms. “Yes, but it appears you’ve run yourself ragged. When you messaged me about sparring this morning I had assumed you’d be well-rested. Ahsoka’s already softened you up. You’ll hardly be a challenge anymore, dear one.” 

As predicted, the endearment darkened Anakin’s eyes. For some time now, and Obi-Wan could not say for sure when it started, they had been dancing around a nameless pull between them. Liquid warmth pooled low in his abdomen every time he saw Anakin flourish on the battlefield, a lone azure blade waltzing through fire and smoke. A warm blossom in his heart unfurled whenever he saw Anakin smile in aching relief after days apart, just for him.

Anakin had experience now to bank the flames of his overconfidence and it had moulded him into the Knight Obi-Wan always knew he could be. For every brash decision there was another tempered with careful forethought. It was as fascinating to see him puzzle out tactics with delicate consideration as it was to watch him dance with disaster and never miss a single step. He had matured in ways Obi-Wan never expected while still unequivocally remaining Anakin Skywalker. 

Anakin was beautiful and it had set his desire ablaze. He had been so absorbed in admiring the changes that he tripped over what lay right in front of him, headlong into something new.

It was not the easiest thing to accept in himself. He considered the implications—almost to the point of agony—across many lonely nights on the _Negotiator_ . Could he accept this part of himself, that yearns to know Anakin in ways far more intimate and carnal? Could he accept the skewed power dynamics inherent in their history? He eventually allowed himself to dismiss these worries after carefully turning each over in his mind over long periods of meditation and reflection. In the end, Anakin was an adult and Anakin, for all his graces and flaws, had always been somewhat independent during his training. It was to be expected, given his early life and Obi-Wan had never tried to curb that. Oh, Anakin played the reverent Padawan well, and Obi-Wan had no doubt the respect he received was genuine, but that all was muted in the face of the strength of their friendship. 

Besides, it was quite clear to Obi-Wan that Anakin desired this perhaps more fervently than he did. And Obi-Wan had never been good at denying Anakin when it counted. Not that he had any intentions of simply giving in. He would make his former Padawan work for it, to be sure, but he never hid his intentions in the bond. Thus the teasing dance started. Lingering looks full of promise and dares, a casual brush of hands or the minds, plucking at the strumming thread of hunger in their bond. 

What Obi-Wan had not expected was for Anakin to start teasing back. 

He considered dismissing it as indecision but he knew Anakin far better than that. He was one of the most decisive people Obi-Wan knew. It often made him bold and brash, especially when the decision was made in haste. But given how long they circled each other, orbiting a barycentre, he could only conclude Anakin had at least partially thought this through and they both wanted to play this game together. Part of him shivered to know Anakin was giving him as much consideration as he would a tactical maneuver. 

And thus, here they stood: at the brinkmate. 

Anakin fingered the strings of their force bond and it took far more effort than Obi-Wan expected to not sing for him at the playful touch.

“If you think I won’t be a challenge then you’ve already lost, Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan crouched down and pulled the training sabres from his bag, their handles well worn from years of practice. 

“ _Darling_ ,” he drawled, low and soft. “I’d never underestimate you.” 

He smiled when he saw the barest of rose-gold blushes kiss Anakin’s cheeks, a momentary blip in his confidence. Still the same sweet young man under it all. And maybe that, above all else, was why Obi-Wan loved him. For all his skill and power, Anakin’s compassion and surprising humility could still shine through, as warm as the Force itself. 

As they walked to the centre of the salle and faced one another Obi-Wan wondered if perhaps they should have worked out some rules for this spar. They often liked to challenge one another this way, setting ridiculous terms and conditions. Yet he had a feeling that today there was a simple one, unspoken and silently agreed upon: _To the victor goes the spoils_. 

Obi-Wan activated both training sabres, their hum a lower frequency than that of his real one and Anakin answered in kind, bathing the room in a hot blue glow. Blades at his sides, hanging almost casually, Anakin prowled around him like a loth-wolf, his lithe figure appearing deceptively relaxed. Keeping Anakin in his sights Obi-Wan fell into his habitual Soresu opening, his weight falling mostly onto his back leg, knee somewhat bent to facilitate more mobility. He raised his block higher than normal, properly covering his head, and pointed the other sabre forward with an extended arm. 

A flicker of surprise crossed Anakin’s face before he burst into a guffaw, gesturing with the deeper coloured of his two blades. “You’re properly blocking for once?” 

“You and I both know how deadly your reach is when you practice Jar’Kai,” Obi-Wan hedged. “I’m just waiting for you to close the distance.” 

“What if I’m waiting for you to give in first?” Anakin asked nonchalantly, still prowling, and Obi-Wan wondered if they were talking about their duel anymore. Rolling his eyes he twisted his leading wrist, drawing the blade perpendicular to his body. 

“Then you’ll be waiting an awfully long time, darling,” he said and, without letting go of the handle, crooked his index finger at Anakin in a come hither motion, smirking. “Now, _come to daddy_.” 

The laughter that tumbled from Anakin’s lips was a mixture of startled, baffled and delighted and Obi-Wan wished he could bottle the sound and save it for a rainy day. The smile on Anakin’s face was as bright as the twin suns of his homeworld. He was so bewitched Obi-Wan almost did not register when, all too suddenly, Anakin was in the air, jumping forward to cover ground quickly. Barely whipping both blades up in time before Anakin’s sabres glanced off his block in a one-two hit that sent shock waves up his arms and into his shoulders, Obi-Wan found himself forced further onto his back foot. Not the best start if they were already locking blades this early but leave it to Anakin to come on strong, hoping to overwhelm and overpower his competition. 

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” Anakin said, disengaging and dancing out of his reach when Obi-Wan attempted to kick at him. Obi-Wan was more than happy to give the cheeky little shit space and rolled his shoulders. As always, Anakin hit hard. “No wonder you flirt so much with your opponents. Maybe I should add it to my own bag of tricks?” 

The very idea made Obi-Wan’s stomach curdle. 

“Don’t you _dare_.”

Anakin winked playfully and rushed in again. Their blades parried and spun between them, not unlike the Kata from earlier. It was an easy rhythm to fall into, easy enough that Anakin continued his goading, putting on an affected Coruscanti accent. “ _Oh Ventress, my dear, it appears we once again meet under the light of the pale moon to continue our dance._ ”

“Was that supposed to be me? I’m fairly certain you pulled that from one of your deplorable romance novels,” Obi-Wan groused, tucking into a lower stance spin when Anakin gave him a rare opening and aimed for his side with one sabre, using a reverse grip diagonal block to guard his flank. Anakin opted to jump over his blade rather than parry and Obi-Wan used the momentum to roll under him before Anakin could crash back down on him with an overhead swing. He bounced back up, light on his feet, increasing the distance between them once more. “What was it Ahsoka called them? Porn without pictures?” 

Half a year prior Ahsoka had found one of Anakin’s flimsy-bound novels, old and worn at the corners, and had taken it to the cafeteria for a dramatic reading to the troops. Rather than become flustered and upset Anakin had snatched the book from her, skipped several chapters ahead and recited an even more ludicrous passage. Of all the things to come out of the incident, Obi-Wan had been most surprised to learn about the book club that met once every fortnight.

“Well, you talk like the love interests, it seemed appropriate,” Anakin taunted, lazily twirling the blade in his right hand before he darted forward. Obi-Wan parried his attacks one by one, short sharp motions meant to knock Anakin’s sabres wide and create an opening but Anakin was frustratingly fast as always, blade always coming back in to meet his, to guard his core.

This was their dance, a series of feints and clashes as they sought out weakness in the other’s technique. Ahsoka once told Obi-Wan, in a quiet moment, that watching them was like watching one warrior in two bodies. They could perfectly mirror and counter one another. Obi-Wan instinctively knew where Anakin would be and the reverse was equally true. Obi-Wan’s training had shaped Anakin into the deadly fighter he was today but so too had teaching Anakin transformed himself. Obi-Wan had learned as much over the ten years of Anakin’s apprenticeship as he had from twelve years under Qui-Gon’s guidance.

A part of Obi-Wan ached to see that which he helped build change. He wondered if this intimate knowledge they shared would survive. Another part of him was giddy with excitement to meet Anakin anew every day, in every spar, to see how he transformed and transcended his training. He wanted to continue to learn Anakin as Anakin continued to learn him. 

It was time, Obi-Wan realized, to begin a new chapter.

“Is that what you want me to be, Anakin?” He asked, managing to plant his foot against Anakin’s sternum and kick him away, aided with a bit of a push from the Force. His former apprentice landed on his back several feet from him, sliding on the floor. Using the momentum Anakin rolled slightly onto his shoulders before whipping his legs forward, his back forming a perfect curve as he flipped back up onto his feet, hair wild and falling into his face in a mess of bronze curls. 

“Excuse me?” Anakin asked, tossing his hair from his face. His eyes were luminous and wide, like a loth-cat staring down prey.

“Am I you love interest?” Obi-Wan asked, rushing forward, closing the distance and pressing the advantage. Anakin hastily brought his blades up in a block and they collided in a static clash. They were close, close enough that Obi-Wan could watch a droplet of sweat work its way down the tendon of Anakin’s neck in the blazing azure glow of four sabres, pooling in the hollow of his throat. He was gorgeous, awash in the colour that was the same hue as his eyes. “Is that what you want, darling?”

Anakin bit his lip, drawing the plump flesh through his teeth. The molten-metal hot want that suffused Obi-Wan at that moment made him feel light-headed. He wanted to drag his own teeth along that reddened lip, kiss him breathless. He was ready for everything to change. Opening himself to Anakin entirely Obi-Wan allowed Anakin to peer inside and felt Anakin do the same. He could feel, now that the levees between them had opened and a flood of pure desire and love rushed in, just how much Anakin wanted the same thing. 

“Of course that’s what I want.” 

Happiness hummed between them, a call and answer. Obi-Wan felt his cheeks stretch as his joy and fondness threatened to burst him at the seems with the force of his smile.

Which was why he did not expect the foot to hook behind his knee and yank his feet out from under him. In a blur of light, his off-hand sabre went flying as Anakin disarmed him. Mere seconds after his back hit the ground Anakin dropped to straddled his chest, blades crossed at Obi-Wan’s neck. The smirk on Anakin’s angelic face was triumphant and satisfied.

Obi-Wan made to move his right arm but Anakin simply pinned it with his knee. 

“Ah ah, none of that now, Obi-Wan,” Anakin admonished, entirely too pleased with himself. He leaned close, his breath barely brushing over his lips. “Do you concede?” 

Obi-Wan let his remaining sabre tumble from his fingers to thud on the lightly cushioned floor and rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, you insufferable creature.”

“Oh don’t say that, you love me,” Anakin laughed, powering off his own sabres and tossing both to the side. Anakin moved his knee from Obi-Wan’s bicep and shifted to settle more on his abdomen. Obi-Wan had half a mind to admonish Anakin for the careless treatment of the weapons but his intentions were derailed when long fingers cradled his face and soft lips kissed his.

Everything slid into place the moment their lips touched. A soft moan slipped from Obi-Wan’s throat and into Anakin’s mouth, which opened greedily to swallow it with an answering mewl. It was easy to get lost in the languid moment as warmth suffused them. Slipping his hand into bronze curls and another hand tugging at Anakin’s hip, fingers slipping on his skin, Obi-Wan encouraged Anakin to grind the hot swell of his growing arousal into his abdominals while he busied himself with finally nipping and tasting those tempting lips. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin murmured, his voice hoarse with want, rocking against his stomach, dragging the hardness back and forth. It would be so easy to let them both get swept up in the undertow of their desires. The idea of making Anakin come in his trousers, in a dizzying rush of passion, was heady. But more than that Obi-Wan wanted to savour this. He had waited and agonized so long he had no intention of allowing this to end as quickly as it began. He had plans and while he knew Anakin would most likely derail them he wasn’t about to let him do so this early. Letting go of Anakin’s curls he slid his hands down to the hem of Anakin’s tunic and tugged. 

Anakin scrambled to get with the program, sitting up and pulling the black fabric over his head. Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Anakin’s exposed chest. It was hardly the first time he had seen it but the context changed everything. Their previous exertion created a golden sheen that brought definition to the strength of his figure. Anakin’s musculature was honed and carved from dedication to his craft and his loyalty to their Order. Unable to stop himself Obi-Wan ran a greedy hand up perfectly formed external obliques and recti abdominis, feeling the muscles jump beneath his fingers as he caressed appreciatively. His hand framed Anakin’s pectoralis major, thumbing the perky nipple almost absentmindedly as he squeezed admiringly.

He was so absorbed he blinked in surprise when gloved fingers tilted his chin up and Obi-Wan let his eyes meet Anakin’s, drawn in like gravity. 

“Like what you see?” Anakin’s lips were painted with a smirk, his words slightly hoarse and dripping with want but his eyes, wide and blue, held traces of hesitant vulnerability. Taking Anakin’s hand in his free one Obi-Wan brought the mechanical fingers to his lips, brushing a featherlight kiss across the knuckles. He let his care and adoration temper his desire. Nothing was worth pushing this too far and pushing Anakin away in the process.

“Anakin, are you sure you want to continue?” He asked, searching for any trace of discomfort.

“ _Obviously_.”

“Because we don’t—”

Anakin’s fingers slipped from his grasp and pressed against his lips, an intent look on his face. “I really, _really_ want to,” Anakin insisted, caressing Obi-Wan’s lips slowly. Obi-Wan watched carefully as Anakin gathered all his confidence and sank into his desire and opened himself to Obi-Wan, revealing places within himself Obi-Wan never knew existed. Fascinated, he couldn’t tear his eyes away as Anakin’s pupils slowly dilated, consuming his irises until they resembled twin annular eclipses, lashes lazily fluttering. “The things I’ve thought about, alone in the dark when sleep won’t come…”

Obi-Wan nipped at leather-encased fingers. Shivery anticipation clung to him. “Tell me,” he asked, almost begging. 

“Hmmm,” Anakin hummed and gripped Obi-Wan’s jaw, looming over him. Between them their lust formed a closed circuit, feeding one another. This close, their bond this open, Obi-Wan knew Anakin’s words were true. The sight of his restored confidence fanned the flames. Bringing their lips closer, Anakin whispered, “I think I’d rather show you.” 

With a teasing brush of his lips that left Obi-Wan’s tingling Anakin ducked down to press exploratory kisses along Obi-Wan’s jugular, small kittenish licks occasionally interspersed to taste. Tugging aside the tunic Anakin set his mouth and teeth to work on the sensitive patch of skin along his shoulder and pleasure flourished there like night-blooming flowers. The moan that grew in Obi-Wan’s chest the longer he worked eventually slipped free, it’s sound deafening in the quiet of the salle and Obi-Wan hastily slapped a palm over his mouth to muffle it, embarrassed by the wanton nature of it. 

Anakin’s hand, the flesh-and-blood one, pried his fingers away and pressed his wrist next to his head. Molten black-blue eyes peered up at him from under dark lashes, mouth obscenely red. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Anakin said, squeezing his wrist gently for emphasis. “Don’t you dare hide your voice.”

Obi-Wan felt his arousal pulse within the confines of his trousers and spread his legs a little to alleviate the pressure, groaning. What creature had he unleashed?

“That’s better,” Anakin purred and ducked back down to resume his work. He let go of Obi-Wan’s hand and, reaching down, used his fingers to start tugging up the loose under tunic. Arching his back Obi-Wan helped Anakin to push the ecru fabric up to bunch under his arms. A mechanical hand pushed through the sparse auburn hair on his chest, the leather leaving fiery trails of pleasure in it’s wake, while a warm flesh one sought out his left nipple, playfully tugging and pinching. Obi-Wan felt the neglected one perk up in sympathy, a live wire of bliss between them, and a whine escaped his throat. 

“Anakin,” he gasped when teeth sank just a little harder into his shoulder, no doubt intending to leave a bruise. The heat of him was overwhelming, as scorching as a desert sun bearing down and sinking into Obi-Wan’s skin. The pressure lessened and a hot tongue flicked over the brief impression of teeth. Obi-Wan was not sure if it was an apology or Anakin’s more possessive instincts coming into play but the pleased purr indicated it was most likely the latter. 

Sitting back up, imperious like an emperor on a throne, Anakin reached down and rubbed at the sensitive mark he’d bitten and sucked into Obi-Wan’s skin with his thumb. The ache it left was as good as the ache in his muscles after a day of productive hard work, and just as satisfying. 

“Well, aren’t you pleased with yourself?” Obi-Wan mock-griped, unable to contain his smile. 

“Oh I’m just getting started,” Anakin teased, shifting himself back down Obi-Wan’s body like some svelte predator about to consume his kill. Chuckling, he cupped the obvious arousal between Obi-Wan’s legs. “After all, we haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.” 

For all that Anakin was trying to exude assured sexual confidence, Obi-Wan laughed at the gleeful exuberance with which he fumbled to yank down his pants, as though it were the wrapping on a Life Day present. He found himself laughing even harder at the stunned expression that crossed Anakin’s face when he managed it and Obi-Wan’s cock immediately bounced up to greet him, hitting him in the cheek. 

“Well that was rude,” Anakin quipped, giving the tip a brief kiss, and pleasure sprouted there, new and eager. A smear of precum gleamed on his cheek as he grinned, shiny and slick against the duller golden sheen of his sweat. 

“Can’t blame it for wanting your attention, darling,” Obi-Wan murmured, reaching down to take the thick base in his hand, rubbing the tip against Anakin’s lower lip. Lust was curling in his pelvis like a supercharged plasma, suffusing his whole body until he felt alight; the comedy of the moment falling away under the pressure of their mutual desires. Anakin’s gloved hand tightened on his thigh while the other raked blunt nails over the groove of his iliac crest, leaving little red lines. Dark eyes pierced through Obi-Wan as Anakin parted his lips, his pink tongue flicking lightly over the frenulum and his eyes fluttered shut at the taste, lashes dusting over his cheeks. A deep rumbling purr of satisfaction reverberated in both of their chests. But a man could only take so much torment.

“Now, why don’t you open that pretty mouth a little wider and give it a proper hello?” Obi-Wan asked, letting his desire run wild and possess his tongue.

“Maybe the esteemed member of the Jedi Council needs to learn some patience,” Anakin countered, beginning to press lazy wet kisses down the underside of his cock. Each all too brief kiss felt like a brand that left a glowing impression of euphoria in their wake. Obi-Wan wondered, if someone were to look at him through the Force, if every place Anakin had touched would be lit up all neon-gold, his body a canvass. 

Hastily, he tugged his tunic over his head before propping himself up on his elbows, the fabric still caught on one arm. The sight between his legs was arresting. Anakin toyed with him, lips always teasingly light and his tongue alternating between tentative licks and broad hungry strokes. A gasp punched its way out of Obi-Wan’s lungs when Anakin ducked down even further, sucking one of his balls into the heat of his mouth while a gloved hand encased the head of his cock, the tip of his finger playing with the now freely weeping slit. 

Reaching down Obi-Wan carded a hand through Anakin’s slightly damp curls. Anakin groaned, the sack popping out of his mouth before he began sucking lightly at the sides, an aching parody of what Obi-Wan wanted most. Reaching the tip Anakin hesitated before chuckling, shaking his head. 

“I’ve never done this on a _real_ cock before,” he admitted, reaching up and tucking some stray hair behind his ear. A crack in his incubus mask. Obi-Wan slid his hand down to carefully cup Anakin’s cheek in his hand, rubbing at the pre-cum stain with his thumb. 

“You are doing an excellent job so far, my love” he praised, watching the expected bashful flush dust Anakin’s cheeks and the soft flutter of his lashes. Reigning in his lust he settled into the warmth of the moment. “Though I do find myself wondering where you practised.” 

Anakin rolled his eyes despite his blush. “I think you know where, Obi-Wan, don’t be coy.” 

Obi-Wan chuckled, conceding the point. How could he forget? “Senator Amidala, you minx.” 

“I think you of all people know a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Obi-Wan,” Anakin teased warmly, leaning into his hand. 

It was fascinating, the constant push and pull between Anakin’s embarrassment and confidence. Fondness swelled in Obi-Wan's chest until he felt overfull with love and yearned to kiss him. Sitting up fully he cradled Anakin’s whole face in his hands and leaned down to seal their mouths in a tender kiss. The little mewl Anakin released sent a frisson down his spine, both of desire and love. 

Pulling away slowly he leaned back again, on one hand, leaving the other to cradle Anakin’s jaw, his thumb sliding over slick red lips. 

“You don’t need to do anything you’re not comfortable with, darling,” he promised, urging Anakin to believe him. 

Anakin dragged his teeth along the pad of Obi-Wan’s thumb. “I know,” he said, dipping his head down to press another kiss against the head of Obi-Wan’s waiting cock. He paused briefly, flicking the tip of his tongue into the slit, groaning at the pearl of precum that welled up in response before his lips blossomed open like a lewd flower and Obi-Wan was engulfed in the soft heat of Anakin’s plush mouth. 

Their moans were synchronous and Obi-Wan fought with the desire to close his eyes and bask in the warm waves of pleasure that came from Anakin’s curious explorations of his cock and the limits of his own mouth. He didn’t want to take his eyes away from the obscene sight of Anakin’s head slowly bobbing between his constrained thighs, pink lips stretched wide. Too much of a novice to take such a large insertion into his throat Anakin pulled off Obi-Wan’s cock to smear the built-up saliva down the length before reapplying his mouth to the head, working both in tandem. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Obi-Wan praised, letting Anakin see the more debauched corners of his mind. “Should have known your filthy mouth would be good at this. You’re a natural.” 

A pleased hum rumbled in Anakin’s throat and he pushed just a little deeper, testing his limits. The glide of the head of his cock across the soft palate of Anakin’s mouth, slipping to the opening of his throat was _sublime_. The soft click as Anakin almost gagged, the muscle squeezing at the head of Obi-Wan’s cock, was salacious and Obi-Wan’s lust warred with his guilt at being the cause but he felt nothing but absolute contentment and pride in Anakin’s star-studded nebulous presence in the Force. A hot line of drool dripped down, slipping past Anakin’s slowly pumping fist to drizzle over his balls. “That’s it, dear one, you’re doing so well.” 

“ _Fuck_!” Pulling off with a gasp Anakin whined, his fist still sliding up and down. “You can’t say things like that!” 

“Can’t I?”

“I’d rather not shoot off in my pants before I can even get them off,” Anakin growled. 

Obi-Wan chuckled darkly, letting his mouth run wild. Here, together, they could be their whole selves and Obi-Wan sank into it fully. “I’m not the one stopping you from removing them, dearest, you were the one too busy gagging on my cock.” 

Anakin laughed, shaking his head ruefully. “I should have known you’d be a dirty old man.” 

Pushing himself up Anakin rose to his feet, carefully toeing off his boots and bending over to toss them across the salle where their gear lay. Obi-Wan allowed his eyes to appreciate the beautiful play of Anakin’s muscles shifting under his skin. Smiling down, soft and coy, Anakin’s hands busied themselves with undoing the ties of his pants, fingers deft and sure. Teasingly he hooked his thumbs in the waistband.

“You want to see me, Obi-Wan?” He asked, dirty-sweet. 

“Don’t torment me, dear one,” Obi-Wan replied, playing along. It was easy to fall into such games with Anakin, almost as natural as their spars and their banter. Of course, they would fit together here as well. “Take off your pants and let me see the whole of you, pretty thing.” 

When Obi-Wan was still Padawan, he and Qui-Gon had been sent to monitor a dispute between the moons Roshai and Behar orbiting the ringed gas giant Ayun. The talks had been unmemorable in their banality—something of a rarity for their missions—and Obi-Wan often found himself with an excess of time on his hands. With nothing better to do, he often chose to explore the palace on Roshai when meetings adjourned. Thankfully the palace doubled as a repository of art from across the eons of Roshaian history, collected by a bygone Pontifex. It was nice to wander the halls and admire the paintings in the golden evening light as he let the stress of the day wash away.

The left-wing housed a gallery lined with statuary dedicated to the physical body, a renaissance movement from three centuries past. There was inspired beauty in the carved naked forms chiselled from rose-gold-flecked white stone. Each statue was a celebration of physicality, strength and sensuality while managing to veer away from obscenity. The Old Masters had never intended to titillate their audience but to convey an almost worshipfulness to the existence of flesh and bone. 

The sight Anakin made standing above him once he eased the black fabric over his hips and let it pool at his feet would have made any of those Roshaian Masters weep. Obi-Wan himself nearly did. 

“Oh, _darling,_ look at you.” 

Of course, Anakin Skywalker was art brought to life, sculpted by the very hands of the Force itself. There was a fearful symmetry to him; perfection beyond mortal comprehension tempered by the scars life had left upon him. Obi-Wan’s eyes roved over exquisitely formed calves and the thickly corded muscles of his thighs. He was the epitome of youth and vigour itself, a marriage of masculinity and femininity in his curves and hard lines.

Obi-Wan let his eyes ghost over the long leather glove that encased the entirety of Anakin’s prosthetic. He rarely saw the durasteel mechanism beneath, he wasn’t even sure what it looked like anymore for how often Anakin tinkered and improved it. But he could tell, as he brushed an inquiry over Anakin’s mind that he was not ready to bare that part of himself for Obi-Wan’s eyes. He caressed Anakin’s shame, the sticky dark-redness of it in his Force signature, with acceptance and love and felt gratitude bloom in response. 

Finally, Obi-Wan let his eyes settle on his prize. Anakin’s cock stood tall and just as flawless. Its curve was slight, the tip the same inviting dusky pink-red of Anakin’s lips to compliment the natural gold tones of his skin. A clear pearl dripped down the velvet length when it twitched at his praise. 

Obi-Wan reached out, pushing himself to rise, hands sore and empty with the want to touch his love. 

“Anakin—”

Anakin stepped forward and planted a foot on his chest, And Obi-Wan allowed him to gently but firmly push him back down to the floor until he was prone. The overhead lights created a backlit halo through Anakin’s curls and suddenly he seemed less flesh and blood and more like a domineering demi-god, forcing Obi-Wan into submission and demanding supplication. 

“I don’t think I’m done yet,” Anakin purred, slowly descending like an avenging seraph of myth and legend. Straddling him, Anakin leaned back, using one hand to support his weight on Obi-Wan’s thigh, just above the knee. Shifting his hips he then spread his legs wide, revealing the most vulnerable and intimate part of himself and Obi-Wan nearly sobbed with want at the display. Anakin’s beautiful cock was framed by his powerful thighs, his tight sack beneath them and, further back still, his perfectly pink furled hole was revealed.

Anakin’s gloved hand reached down, gently cradling Obi-Wan’s aching cock, and lifted it to rest against his own. Obi-Wan moaned at the hot brush of silk-covered steel against his arousal. Blue eyes eclipsed with desire slid closed and Anakin let out a shaky little whine. 

“You’re so big,” Anakin whispered reverently, letting his eyes open again to pin Obi-Wan with the force of his desire. He was spellbound, unable to look away from the wanton angel sitting astride him. Rocking his hips back a little Anakin urged the tip of Obi-Wan’s cock to nestle perversely against his hole in a lewd kiss. “Fuck, I want it splitting me open.”

Gritting his teeth Obi-Wan gently let his head thud against the cushioned floor, trying to calm his racing pulse. Oh, he wanted the same thing. To be so close… but they both knew to even attempt that without the requisite lubrication was dangerous, and to hurt Anakin was anathema to Obi-Wan. “That makes two of us, my love.” 

“I guess we’re both going to have to wait,” Anakin sighed. 

Then he closed his thighs around Obi-Wan’s cock.

Even his secret midnight visions could not have prepared Obi-Wan for the press of skin softer than silk and muscles tighter than a vice around the throbbing length of his arousal. Suddenly there was not nearly enough oxygen in the room for his lungs and he felt light-headed with the pleasure. He tried to jerk his hips up further into the damp confines but the pants cutting into the meat of his thighs and Anakin’s hands made the task insurmountable. Anakin’s smirk was pure wickedness as he ground his legs slowly together, and mirrored the action in the Force, their signatures grinding against one another almost desperately. 

Reaching down Anakin rubbed his palm and fingers along the tip of Obi-Wan’s dick where it peaked out between dusky golden thighs, looking angry and red by comparison. The touch was electric and Obi-Wan’s hips bucked impotently under the weight of Anakin, haphazardly restrained as he was.

“Fuck, you look good between my legs,” Anakin praised, biting his plump lower lip. Obi-Wan’s eyes were drawn to the spider-silk stand of clear pre-ejaculate connecting Anakin’s index to the freely weeping head of his cock. He groaned in hungry sympathy as Anakin raised his hand and touched the tip of his finger to his tongue, lashes languidly fluttering at the taste. “Do you want me to ride you, Obi-Wan? Clench your cock between my thighs, rubbing your precum into my skin?” 

No longer able to keep his hands to himself Obi-Wan reached out and curled his fingers around Anakin’s ankles, running up the defined curve of his calves as they flexed. “Show me how good you can be, sweetheart.” 

What transpired was mesmerizing. When he wasn’t torn between the encompassing pleasure Obi-Wan was transfixed by the poetry that was Anakin in motion. The way his body moved, the miracle that was a human body acting out love, stole his heart all over again. This man, who had given the whole of his being in service to the Force, in the protection of the Republic, in love for his men and his padawan, was giving himself to Obi-Wan here at this moment. This was simply for them and them alone and the heady idea of it nearly plunged Obi-Wan over the edge. 

He tightened his grip as Anakin rose and fell with precision, simply trying to hang on. 

“I love you,” he whispered, awed and bespelled, laid out as an offering to his private god. The Force around them hummed with promise, like the steel string of a hammered dulcimer, the note clear and resolute. 

Anakin’s motions faltered, his core flexing, before his presence washed over Obi-Wan in a shimmering shower of stars, a hundred-thousand interstellar kisses, each one an _I love you, too_ , embedding the promise into Obi-Wan’s very being. There, they knit themselves in, as strong as their bond. The growing spiral coil of heady desire threatened to spill over, overwhelmed with everything Anakin couldn’t voice aloud but whispered fluently in a language only Force Sensitives could speak, their mother tongue. 

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan warned, choked and urgent, overwhelmed. 

“Don’t come,” Anakin pled, his motions slowing, a juxtaposition between sensations soothing and erotic. There was a desperation to him, seeking and grasping, his starfield pressing close and tight around Obi-Wan until the place where one began and the other ended blurred. “Please, Obi-Wan, don’t come! Let me feel you a little longer.”

He had faced impossible odds for Anakin before and Obi-Wan knew he was helpless to do anything but obey. He caught the wave rising inside him and tamed it, gentled it and rode along its crest as Anakin rode him, slick and tight and perfect. It was almost meditative at moments, controlling the surge as it built. Obi-Wan would endure it, the tumble of pleasure, if it would please Anakin, no matter how bruised he emerged on the otherside.

“That’s it, so good for me,” Anakin panted, burnished curls bouncing. His eyes were dark and hungry, binary black holes drawing Obi-Wan ever deeper into their depths. “A perfect Master for me, giving me what I want, what I _need_. You always have, always know just what is best for me. I’ll always need you and you’ll always be there, won’t you?” 

“Always,” Obi-wan promised, words heavy with the weight of his conviction and Anakin’s answering grin was wild and as untamed as he was. It was so arresting, so beautiful the wave suddenly slammed into the shore, and Obi-Wan tumbled headlong into his orgasm as it crashed over him. It was pulled from him in white-hot pulses of liquid pleasure that left him briefly stunned and gasping, unable to look anywhere but Anakin’s beloved face. His thighs shook from the intensity. 

Syrupy red lips parted and the little mewl that escaped was even sweeter. 

“It’s so hot,” Anakin moaned, clenching his thighs all the tighter and Obi-Wan’s hips jerked as an aftershock quaked through him, a bone-deep pulse. He wanted more and yet as Anakin slowly milked him for the rest Obi-Wan knew he was becoming oversensitive. They edged dangerously close to the line between pain and pleasure.

“Darling, please,” he hissed and Anakin apologetically released him from the press of his legs and Obi-Wan was overcome with the sight of his angel’s inner thighs coated with opaque ribbons of his spend.

As if possessed Obi-Wan scrambled to rise, hands gripping Anakin by the flank to pull them flush together. Anakin’s long legs spayed themselves out around Obi-Wan’s hips, his thighs clinging tight, smearing saliva, sweat and seed. Their mouths slid together as if magnetized, and Obi-Wan could taste the salt and musk of his precum on Anakin’s lips. Still a little lightheaded he drew away, kissing along Anakin’s sharp jawline. 

“Tell me what you want, beloved,” Obi-Wan whispered into Anakin’s skin reverently. “Dirty little thing, tell me what you need from me.” 

Anakin’s mechanical hand tugged Obi-Wan’s between the humid heat of their bodies, dragging the fingers through the still warm cum that coated Anakin’s abdomen before guiding him to his most intimate core. Plasma-hot blue eyes pierced Obi-Wan as Anakin eased his finger past the tight rim. 

“Fuck me with your fingers, push your cum inside me. I’m yours, Obi-Wan, I’m yours. Make me yours.” 

With a groan, Obi-Wan sank his finger slowly but surely into the velvet clench of Anakin’s body. The muscles seemed to suck at him, greedily pulling him deeper to where he was wanted, a parody of Anakin’s filthy mouth. But for all that Anakin’s hips were squirming and his voice cried out for more, Obi-Wan could not bring himself to be anything but gentle and cautious as he pet along delicate membranes and sought out the little knot deep inside with a gentle come-hither motion. 

Once he found it, circling with gentle precision, Anakin began to fall apart, crumbling as he added another finger. The facade of the imperious angel collapsed until nothing but the beautiful young man remained, writhing in Obi-Wan’s lap without shame. He kissed those sinful lips, devouring every little sigh and moan as they worked in tandem. Anakin’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer until no space remained, blunt nails and leather raking themselves over Obi-Wan’s trapezius muscles. 

“That’s it, dear one, you can do it,” Obi-Wan urged, keeping the steady kneading motion against Anakin’s prostate. 

He felt it before he heard it, the shuddery quiver of Anakin’s muscles and the first hot splash of cum against his stomach. The groan that followed was deep and Obi-Wan could feel it in his chest, around his fingers, as Anakin trembled in his lap with each deep pulse. He worked Anakin through it, the press of his fingers gentle but sure until his love sank against him, exhausted and spent.

The denouement spiralled down slowly as their heaving breaths calmed. Carefully Obi-Wan slipped his fingers free of the tight clench of Anakin’s body, letting his palm soothe across the tacky skin of his flank when Anakin whined at the loss. For a time they simply sat together, their bodies seeking comfort and support in the afterglow. 

“Remember when I used to sit in your lap like this?” Anakin asked, voice drowsy and indolent with lingering pleasure as he rested his temple against Obi-Wan’s. “When I was small I used to be able to fit my head beneath your chin. I felt so safe there, like nothing could harm me.” 

“Of course I remember,” Obi-Wan acknowledged, leaning into the touch. His heart ached slightly, knowing all that had come to pass between those early years and now. He tightened his hold on Anakin slightly, wishing he could erase all the hurt and pain. “You were rather small for your age.”

“Things change,” Anakin said, contemplative. Obi-Wan waited for him to continue the thought but it was clear Anakin would not be so easily forthcoming with his ruminations. The fact that he was even offering this much unprompted was a surprise. Who would have thought a good orgasm of all things would lead to Anakin Skywalker willingly discussing his feelings, even if in roundabout fashion. 

“Sometimes,” he hedged. Shifting he kissed Anakin’s cheek and leaned back to look up into his eyes. “But some things stay the same.” 

Snorting ruefully, Anakin raised a brow. “Oh?” 

Reaching deep Obi-Wan poured sincerity and love into their bond. “You remain the most precious thing in my life.” 

For a moment Anakin stared at him, lips parted in wonder before something shadowed his gaze and he looked away. “Obi-Wan...”

Carefully, Obi-Wan tipped Anakin’s face back, waiting patiently for their eyes to meet. “I did not lie when I said I loved you, Anakin. I loved you then and I love you now. The nature of that love has grown and changed with you and it has grown and changed with me. 

“You are constantly in flux, continually changing,” he said softly, trying to urge the part of Anakin that shied away from compliments to take his words to heart. “But I will always hold you in the highest regard and esteem. Because I will choose to love you each and every time.” 

For a moment Anakin was silent, searching his eyes until a small smile and a bashful flush crossed his cheeks. Obi-Wan smiled in turn to see it.

“Even when I’m sitting naked in your lap covered in both of our sweat and cum?” Anakin asked impishly. 

Obi-Wan laughed. “Here I am, trying to be heartfelt and sincere and you need to drag us both back down into baser territory.” 

“It wouldn’t be us if I didn’t,” Anakin insisted, leaning close to steal a kiss. Obi-Wan allowed him the distraction, raising his hands to cradle the precious face in his palms. It was easy to get swept up in the soft exchange of kisses, to grow addicted to the soft press of lips. Here they were warm and safe and loved. Here they were growing into something new.

Eventually, however, his body began to protest. With a groan, one less imbued with desire, Obi-Wan withdrew from the heady pull of Anakin’s mouth. 

“As lovely as this is, dear one, I do think I need you to get off my legs so I can feel them again,” he admitted somewhat ruefully. In the time that had passed they had grown nearly numb. Anakin’s eyes widened and, with absolutely none of the grace and finesse he possessed earlier, scrambled off Obi-Wan’s lap. Their skin had begun to stick uncomfortably in places and Anakin made a face as he landed next to Obi-Wan, limbs sprawled out. Obi-Wan winced when the blood flowed back into his lowest extremities, bringing a buzzing sensation with it.

“I don’t think we really thought this through,” Anakin admitted, looking down at himself and the absolute mess that covered his abdomen and thighs. Letting his gaze wander back over he unsuccessfully stifled a laugh and hid his face in his hands. “I didn’t even pull your pants completely off!” 

“You were rather eager at the time. The restraint was interesting to contend with,” Obi-Wan said, stroking his beard for added effect. 

Anakin laid down on the floor entirely, body shaking with silent laughter. Fondness spread through Obi-Wan at the sight. Too often the war stole the smile from Anakin’s face and he knew he would endure a hundred indignities if they would bring the sweet sound of Anakin’s laughter to his ears. 

“You’re so unflappable!” Anakin exclaimed, throwing his arms wide before letting them flop to the ground. With a flick of his hand, he called over one of the towels. 

“Anakin—” Obi-Wan began, ready to admonish the misuse of the Force more out of habit than any real objection. Anakin shot him a glare.

“Do you feel like getting up and waddling over there?” Anakin asked, wiping at his stomach and bending his knees so he could clean his thighs as well. “Because that would be a sight.” 

“You may have a point,” Obi-Wan agreed, begrudgingly. 

“Of course I do,” Anakin quipped agreeably, handing over the towel. Obi-Wan accepted it and used what little bit of it was still clean to tidy himself up. He then tossed the towel back at Anakin, who squawked in dismay. 

“Obi-Wan!” 

Chuckling Obi-Wan arched his back and pulled his trousers back up, wincing when it clung to specific places. He’d need a sonic sooner rather than later. He then reached behind him, finding his tunic where it had slipped free of his arm during their frenzied lovemaking. Turning it inside out he slipped it over his head, letting the fabric fall down his torso. Beside him, Anakin huffed in disappointment. 

“I was enjoying that view.” 

Obi-Wan hid a smile as he hopped back up to his feet, stretching his arms over his head until he felt his back pop. “I guess you’ll just have to wait until next time, dear one.” 

Rolling over onto his hip Anakin propped his head upon his hand. “Who says next time can’t be right now?” 

Oh, to be young again. 

“If I were sixteen-years younger, perhaps. But this _dirty old man’s_ refractory period isn’t what it once was,” Obi-Wan laughed and nudged Anakin’s hip with the toe of his boot. “Besides, don’t you have Ahsoka’s homework to look over?” 

Anakin groaned and rolled onto his stomach. Obi-Wan took the opportunity presented to him and freely ogled Anakin’s perky rump. He truly was perfectly formed. “Don’t remind me.”

“Sadly our responsibilities to our Padawans never end,” Obi-Wan said, moving around to gather Anakin’s haphazardly strewn clothing before smirking and dropping the bundle on top of him. “Even when they’ve grown into dashing young knights.” 

Groaning even more emphatically to voice his displeasure Anakin pushed himself up and began yanking his tunic over his head, scowling at Obi-Wan without heat. Chuckling Obi-Wan turned away and moved to the side of the salle, gathering up the rest of his clothing and armour to put in his bag before gathering Anakin’s things as well. 

Once that task was completed he walked over to where Anakin tossed his training sabres. Obi-Wan hefted both in his hands, weighing them carefully. He remembered when he first presented these to Anakin. The durasteel was worn with use but still carefully maintained. Funny that Anakin should lose so many lightsabres and yet the ones he had first learned with were still by his side. Approaching where Anakin sat, tugging on his boots, he handed the weapons over. 

“I know I was… skeptical of your Jar’Kai plan with Ahsoka initially,” he began as Anakin took the sabres. Anakin froze but much to Obi-Wan’s surprise he managed to meet his eyes rather than look away or immediately dismiss him. Knowing Anakin was receptive to his thoughts he continued. “She’s coming along wonderfully. You were right, the method is teaching her how to not only correct the reverse grip but to make proper use of it.” 

Anakin nodded, a small smile gracing his lips as he hopped lightly to his feet. “She’s spent so long worrying about her grip that she’s convinced herself she can only wield it in reverse. So I thought about it and realized she may learn better if she’s distracted. She’s so busy thinking about having to work with two hands and keeping them out of each other’s way that she doesn’t have time to overthink and become intimidated by what she assumes is a shortcoming.” 

Obi-Wan nudged Anakin with an elbow. “Sounds like someone else I know.” 

“Yeah well,” Anakin shifted one sabre to the other hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “Teaching is making me a lot more… not critical but… contemplative about my own difficulties and struggles. Does that make sense?” 

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured and leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Of course it does. Teaching you was the greatest privilege of my life and I’m a better person for it. You’re just beginning to realize the same with yourself and Ahsoka.” 

“Yeah, I guess I am.” 

Something warm grew tight and overflowed in Obi-Wan’s chest. There was love there, happiness that Anakin was beginning to find acceptance within himself. It was no secret that deep in his core Anakin was his own worst critic and Obi-Wan ached whenever he caught Anakin on his own, brooding over his failures. There was pride too for there was no failure here. Just acceptance and a willingness to grow. Blinking away the momentary burning sensation in his eyes Obi-Wan took Anakin’s hand and pressed a hard kiss to leather-encased fingers. 

“I’m so very proud of you, Anakin.” 

Ducking his head, Anakin averted his gaze, a pleased flush crossing his cheeks. Anakin’s presence in the Force glowed with happiness, hesitancy and... pleasure. _Oh_. Obi-Wan carefully tucked the revelation away for another time. Eventually, Anakin reigned himself in and met Obi-Wan’s eyes, something simmering with promise in his eyes.

“Thank you, _Master_.” 

_Oh_ . Oh, _dear_.

Absolutely something to tuck away for another time. Obi-Wan coughed delicately into his fist and caught the widening in Anakin’s eyes as he hastily turned away, making a beeline for their bags on the floor.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin exclaimed, utterly delighted at their shared accidental epiphany. Obi-Wan could practically imagine the smirk on his face. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” he warned, turning around and tossing Anakin his bag, aiming for his face. Oh, he was smirking alright. Anakin looked downright devilish with impish exhilaration. 

Anakin caught it with ease and cackled with glee, his pure amusement and joy reverberating in the Force. Shouldering his bag Obi-Wan headed for the door, trying to escape Anakin’s teasing. Still laughing Anakin hurried after him, catching his hand and pulling him back into him. He pressed an apologetic kiss to his cheek.

“Sorry,” he said, still giggling. “I don’t see you that mortified often.” 

Sighing Obi-Wan took a moment to gather up his embarrassment and release it into the Force. 

“It just took me by surprise,” he admitted. It was something to explore together and the idea filled him with warmth and the distant promise of pleasure in discovery. Anakin bumped his shoulder against Obi-Wan’s companionably. 

“I guess we can still learn a lot from each other.” 

Lacing their fingers together Obi-Wan tugged Anakin through the door, leaving the salle behind, and entering the new chapter of their lives with anticipation and a smile on his face.

“That’s the beauty of it, Anakin. We always will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: I commissioned the absolutely wonderful [Shatou](https://shatouto.tumblr.com/) to do some art for the fic! It's truly stunning. Please follow her she's fantastic!


End file.
